


Be My Ever Loving Baby

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Bruises, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-23 07:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18148883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: McCree comes to Sombra one night after he was hurt. He’s not sure what to make of the blood on his face and the mess going on inside his chest.





	Be My Ever Loving Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my little headcanon that after a month of sleeping with Sombra, McCree realizes that he’s fallen in love with her.

McCree has had worst, but this is pretty bad. In the darkness, he limps under a white stone arch. An ordinary, yellow painted house presses in between others. Indifferent, unnoticeable. McCree laughed the first time he saw it because of small distance from it to the bar.

He knocks on the door. He leans his shoulder onto the doorway frame, praying it will hold him up long enough. In seconds, the door opens, a gun pointed at his face from out of the shadows.

“I’m trying to decide how stupid you are for showing up here without warning, McCree,” Sombra says.

Her voice rolls through him like a wave. Her accent, and harsh but rolling letters allow his lungs to expand. That’s a bad thing, too. Every breath hurts the sides of his ribs.

“If you’re going to, hurry up. There’s no point in letting me hang,” he grumbles, then grunts painfully.

McCree’s bad leg gives out. The knee buckles as he falls forward. Her gun presses flatly into his chest as she catches him. His height drowns her own but her strength keeps him up right. She immediately shifts, drawing an arm around her shoulders to half drag him inside. Her purple-blue irises flash over his person.

He’s bleeding from the heavy blows he took to his temples, nose, cheeks, and chin. One knee got kicked just right. Not busted, but definitely in need of time and recovery.

“You look half dead,” she finally says. A slight miff carries in her tone at his unexpected arrival.

“Certainly feel so,” he mutters.

He tries to hold his own weight, but it proves useless. By the time Sombra dumps him on her small bed, his groans are heavy and dragged out.

She hovers over him. A hard slant to her brow takes in his mangled person. She reaches out with one finger nail, and touches the corner of his jaw. Complying with her manhandling, he tilts his chin this way and that for her inspection of his face.

“Did you mean to get this beaten up?” her voice drips sarcasm.

“No, ma’am,” he answers in kind.

A painful grunt escapes his throat. His eyelids flutter for a moment. The left is swollen near shut with dark blue bruising. Two splits on his bottom lip keep spilling an iron taste over his tongue. He attempts to shift his slouched position with his back resting against the wall, but his grimaces refuses any sort of movement. His hat falls off to the side.

“Do you have broken ribs?” she sharply asks.

“I ain’t too sure… Maybe just badly bruised,” he gives. He’s had a broken rib before. This is just a notch from it, but close enough. His ribs could have been fractured or cracked, but that isn’t something that can really be treated besides with a wrap around his torso.

A curse falls from her mouth.

“ _Estúpido,_ ” she snaps. “I told you I could help you with that bounty hunt.”

“It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, Sombra.” He grins through a wince. “I still got him put away.”

That does nothing to lessen the piercing of her eyes. In the dim neon light of her room, she turns away. In one corner, besides a door, she fishes through a dresser before finding a white cloth. Stepping quickly, she pulls a water bottle and a unmarked, white container out of her mini fridge.

Something internal longs to moan. Even through the pain that expands with every heartbeat, he simply watches her. She comes back to him. Setting aside the bottles and clothe, she grabs her stuffed bear off of the pillow.

“Don’t get blood on Arturito.”

He dares to crack another grin. She sets the bear in her computer chair before facing him. Quickly, she lifts off his serape while muttering that she’s not a physician. That is tossed to the side as she eases his arms up, and swiftly undoes the latches of his breastplate armor. She already knows by heart how the latches work. Her hurried but gentle touches leave a sweet taste in McCree’s mouth.

He has no idea where the mood has sprung from, but his only thought was of seeing her the moment he started limping. He didn’t expect this. Their relationship has been flirtatious, and kept under the covers. Why she decides to clean up his wounds now leaves his chest wide open. It’s just a matter of her reaching inside and taking what’s already become hers.

Lonely fool, he thinks to himself.

Her eyes fill him up like water as he wanders through a desert.

“Take off your shirt,” she says. His armor joins his serape on the floor.

Sighing deeply, he hardly moves his arms before Sombra is lifting the hem. Almost like he’s a child that needs help getting undressed. She takes the bloody and torn shirt off, and stills at the sight it leaves behind.

Like decaying flowers, deep bruises bloom across the middle of his torso, centered on his ribs. The sight alone makes him hurt. Gingerly, he lowers his arms as Sombra studies the broken blood underneath his skin.

“ _Eso no es bueno_ ,” she breathes.

“Sorry, darlin’.”

“McCree,” she draws in a low breath, as if accusing him of allowing this.

He goes to shrug, but winces instead.

“You should have gone to a doctor, McCree.”

“You know people like me can’t do that,” he says.

“Do you think I know how to fix broken ribs?” she asks, arching a brow.

“They’re not broken.”

One dry ‘hah’ leaves her lips at that statement. The bruises look far worse than they actually are. Still, he aches like the devil himself is punishing him.

Picking up the water bottle, she soaks the cloth lightly. Her lips move quietly, reminding herself to look up how to treat broken ribs. She settles on the end of the bed. McCree shifts his good knee until it touches her thigh. She either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care that he does so deliberately. Leaning forward, cloth in hand, McCree closes his eyes.

Her hands are light as feathers, but they are kind. The cloth isn’t as soft as silk but it does its job of wiping away the blood staining his face. Some even dripped down his neck and upper chest. She wipes that away, too. The attention and caregiving moves McCree’s soul. She returns to him with a new liquid on the cloth from the unmarked bottle. She goes over every split in his skin, causing a slight sting.

“This will fight infection,” she murmurs.

The crinkles in her brow still haven’t smoothed out. A combination of him arriving to her hideout and her having to provide basic medical attention. It’s far better than anything he could have done for himself. Before meeting her, he would have simply done a rough patch job alone.

He wants her, now. He wants another body’s comfort. Her warmth, her voice. He’s touched and loved her on so many occasions now that it’s all he longs to return to, like a home.

“What’s wrong with your knee?” she asks, tilting her head to his propped up one.

“The lowlife just got a good kick on it is all, not something I can’t walk away from… eventually.”

She draws her hand away. Sighing, McCree stills his lungs as to not disturb anymore of the dark bruises on his chest. Her hair falls over her shoulder, flipping up at the ends in dyed colors. Her movement is calculated but smooth, elegant. Like a snake whose scales shine.

He didn’t know what he would find here, but he find something good.

Sombra puts away the bottles and returns to him. Lifting one knee onto the bed, her inspection of his bruises leaves him with an open view of her expression. The mole beside her left eye enchants his mind. Her hand hovers over a particularly bad spot. Just underneath his right pectoral, dark blue stains his skin. His armor kept his skin from getting pierced, but the blunt force behind it is still real.

For one small moment, McCree can believe she looks worried, simply for the sake of his well being. It’s nice. If someone ever struck him with a bullet, at least someone would wonder about him, for a little while.

“Should I be worried about letting you fall asleep tonight?” Sombra asks. She looks over his face. Whatever she finds has smoothed out some of the crinkles in her brow.

“No,” he says. He groans as he begins to sit up. Holding both arms to his ribs, Sombra steps closer as he straightens.

“Stop moving, McCree,” she hisses.

“I ain’t forcing you out of your bed,” he states.

“Pff, always the gentleman.”

She glances back to her computers. Holding up one purple nail, she darts to the screens and presses a few buttons on her keyboard. The light shuts up, leaving them in near darkness. The soft glow of the implants along her skull give him her location as she comes back. She wasn’t dressed in her regular coat before, just leggings and a darker, long sleeve shirt.

“Sombra?” he asks softly.

“If I’m going to baby you, I’m going to baby you properly,” she says. “Lay down.”

He shouldn’t, but he does anyway. Through grinding teeth and harsh breaths, he manages to get onto his back. Her mattress is familiar, and the scent of foxglove fills him like anesthetic.

She moves like a snake coming upon its prey. Through the air, she slips onto the open end of the bed. Her body, tilting onto its side, presses against him in the gentlest motion. Her arm stays clear of his bruised, exposed ribs. Her cheek falls upon the pillow, looking to him from inches away.

“A man could get use to this,” he grins into the darkness.

She doesn’t have to see his busted up lips to know.

“I wouldn’t,” she warns.

She’s right.

He breathes, aching with each expand and collapse. They never set out to be anything more than nighttime lovers. Yet, here she is now, curled up against him, minding his injuries with caution. Her eyes are easy on his skin. Her scent like a healing aura. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

He’s carried demons with him a long time. There were other women, few and far in between, but those always ended in the night that they began in. Sombra was the first one he came back to. She’s the one he sought out in between the alcohol and clever words.

So why is it, when he’s aching and hurting and having a hard time walking, that his thoughts immediately come to her?

He’s fallen in love with her.

That’s no good. They are both people who move too much. However, their paths have move across each other’s again and again. Is he tempting a stronger power to come down and strike him into isolation? Is the devil waiting to rip this miraculous discovery away from him?

If she welcomes him back each time he comes a calling, doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t his heart already know what he feels? This woman at his side, who he’s already loved and touched, has slipped into his chest. She handles him like puddy.

It may be foolish, but he’s a foolish man.

He loves her. This is what this is. Maybe they can’t have a home with two children after a beautiful wedding, but they can have something between them. He already knows it’s real. After so much time spend roaming, he’s grown tired. He only wants to rest beside her.

She’ll say she won’t want this like he wants this. She try to tell him that it’s wrong, and that they are only meant for the night. She’s afraid like that. He is, too, but he’s more tired. He won’t confess what stirs in his bruised chest, but time will tell enough. He’ll love her beyond their drinks and shuttered rooms.

He knows when he wakes up, he’ll be restored, if only from being so closed to her. There’s not enough space in this bed for his demons.

He moves, despite how his breath comes out in a hiss. He reaches out, and brushes back a stray lock of hair that has fallen against her cheek. Her purple-blue irises only watch, unblinking.

Tonight, McCree sleeps with only his darling.


End file.
